"Whoa, I won again!" Zuikaku cheered and roared with laughter as the boy reeled from her decisive strike. Shoukaku watched the spar from the shrine's steps and shook her head, wondering if her sister would ever understand the meaning of holding back. Their friend had never won even once against her, and not for lack of trying. But then again, he was also at fault for being too accommodating of Zuikaku's whims, even though he would've known already that she was far stronger than him.
"Ne, Ohtori, you okay?" asked Zuikaku when she heard the pained groan. She thought she had already made sure she wouldn't strike too hard. Apparently, she did—as always.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Ohtori croaked. Zuikaku frowned and rushed to check up on him, her shinai forgotten on the ground.
"You are not bleeding anywhere? Bruised?"
"I've told you, I'm fine," Ohtori shuffled as Zuikaku touched his face and felt it up, probably searching for a lump or bruise.
"Oh, that's a relief! Thought I hit you too hard like usual!" Zuikaku sighed and let the boy go.
"Nah, it's fine. Though, I may have to...to sit down for a bit," Ohtori said. He was actually feeling somewhat dizzy, but he wouldn't dream of making her feel bad about it. He hoped his unsteady gait wouldn't give it away.
"Okay! I'll practice some more by myself, then!" Zuikaku chirped and walked away to retrieve her shinai.
Ohtori wobbled up to the steps and sat near Shoukaku. She was blowing a few low notes on her flute, but when she noticed him, she smiled. It wasn't her usual smirk at his expense, and he was genuinely taken aback.
"You know, sometimes you need to be honest with her," she said and giggled when she saw his blank stare.
"...Wh-what do you mean?"
"Just say it when you think it needs to be said—or you may regret it. And besides, Zuikaku is honest. She likes honest people, too," Shoukaku giggled again. Ohtori squirmed in his seat.
"...Yeah, well...I'll keep that in mind," he replied lamely as his eyes wandered about. The shrine had gotten even more decrepit in the six months he had spent on the island. Cracks that weren't there then now lined the pathways and the steps, along with a carpet of moss. Whenever the wind blew, he could hear a rickety groan, as if the shrine was struggling to stand against it and not collapse into a ruined heap. Perhaps that's why nobody had ever bothered to come anymore, allowing them to claim it as their own.
"I'm going to miss this place," he remarked.
"Me too," Shoukaku replied
"Whatcha guys talking about?" A sweaty and red-faced Zuikaku joined them.
"How we're going to miss this place," Shoukaku replied.
"Ooh, I see. I would miss it too!" Zuikaku laughed and plopped up beside a flustered Ohtori.
"...And...uh...I will miss you guys, too," he said and hid his face behind his palms. He didn't see Zuikaku's grin and Shoukaku's knowing smile.
"Aw, don't worry about it, Ohtori! When we all have grown up and joined the navy, we could meet again, you know!" Zuikaku slapped the boy's back hard, nearly sending him tumbling forward.
"But until then, we'll always remember this place, won't we?" Shoukaku piped in.
"Of course! This is our place, isn't it?" Zuikaku laughed.
"Yeah, this will always be our place," Ohtori said. He liked how it rolled out his mouth—our place.
None of them knew for sure if that shrine would still stand in the future, against all odds—or if they would return there. But this monument to their friendship will, in a way, will always be there. They will always see it—even if only in their hearts and minds.